- 2 days ago
- #christmashorror
- #creepmas
- #creepypasta
These Christmas horror stories will have you looking over your shoulder as you unwrap your presents!
story credit: Vania
Thumbnail credit: the artists of nvrcaredstudio.com
Thank you for supporting real human art.
For story submissions or inquiries contact us at thekeeperofficial@proton.me (our story submission email)
@keeperofficial
#ChristmasHorror #Creepmas #Creepypasta
story credit: Vania
Thumbnail credit: the artists of nvrcaredstudio.com
Thank you for supporting real human art.
For story submissions or inquiries contact us at thekeeperofficial@proton.me (our story submission email)
@keeperofficial
#ChristmasHorror #Creepmas #Creepypasta
Category
😹
FunTranscript
00:00If you were hearing noises you couldn't explain in the house, how long would you stay?
00:04I am the keeper, he who speaks the tales that seep through the veil.
00:09Tonight, we will delve together into the horrors of the Christmas season
00:13that will make you wonder if Santa is the only one making the list.
00:20I have been warned about the basement door.
00:23My grandmother's instructions were clear.
00:25Never open it after dark.
00:28Never listen to what might be behind it.
00:31And above all, never respond to any sounds that came from below.
00:36For three weeks I followed the rules.
00:39The house creaked and settled around me as I studied for my exams.
00:44The basement door remaining firmly shut at the end of the hallway.
00:49But the sounds grew more persistent each night, scratching at first like fingernails on wood.
00:56Then soft thuds, rhythmic and deliberate.
01:00Then something that almost sounded like footsteps climbing stairs that shouldn't exist.
01:06The house itself seemed to encourage my curiosity.
01:10It was built in 1847.
01:12It sat at the end of a gravel road where the woods pressed close on three sides.
01:17My grandmother had lived there for forty years.
01:21She was alone since my grandfather's death and had never once mentioned what lay beyond the door.
01:27I had asked, naturally, the first day I arrived.
01:32Her face had gone pale and rigid.
01:35Her wrinkled hands gripping the edge of the kitchen table until her knuckles turned white.
01:40The explanation that followed was simple and absolute.
01:44Some doors were meant to stay closed.
01:48During the day, I could almost convince myself the warnings were superstition.
01:53My grandmother had also been telling me about Santa Claus and Krampus.
01:58I was a bit old for these fairy tales.
02:01Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains.
02:05Dust motes danced around the golden beams.
02:08The house felt merely old, not sinister.
02:13The basement door looked ordinary.
02:15It had white paint peeling at the corners, a brass knob tarnished with age, and a simple slide lock at
02:24the top.
02:25But when evening came and shadows pooled in the corners, something changed.
02:31My soul felt heavier near the door.
02:34The temperature around it seemed to be colder than the rest of the house.
02:38And then the sounds began.
02:41Medical school entrance exams demanded all my attention.
02:45And I had come to my grandmother's house specifically for the isolation and the absence of distractions.
02:52But the basement had become its own distraction.
02:56An itch in my mind I couldn't scratch.
02:59I found myself listening for the sounds, anticipating them.
03:04On the twelfth night, I realized I was disappointed when they came later than usual.
03:09I began researching the house's history at the local library.
03:14The records were sparse and unsettling.
03:18Three families had lived there before my grandparents purchased it.
03:22Two of those families had left abruptly, abandoning their belongings.
03:28The third family, a man with his wife and their teenage daughter, had simply disappeared one winter night in 1923.
03:37No bodies were ever found.
03:40No evidence of foul play ever emerged.
03:43The house had stood empty for 27 years before my grandfather bought it at auction for a fraction of its
03:50value.
03:50On the 22nd night, I made my mistake.
03:54I had fallen asleep on the couch with my textbook across my chest.
03:58When I awoke, at 3.47 a.m., the basement door stood open.
04:04A smell drifted from below.
04:07Earth and rot, and something else.
04:10Something older.
04:11The darkness beyond the doorway seemed thicker than it should be, almost solid.
04:16Refusing to let the hallway light penetrate more than a few inches down the stairs,
04:21I approached slowly, my hand reaching for the doorknob to close it.
04:26That's when I noticed the footprints.
04:29Wet, dark prints led from the basement up into the hallway.
04:34They weren't made of mud or water.
04:37The substance was too viscous, leaving thin trails between each step.
04:42The prints went past where I stood, tracking down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
04:47Toward my bedroom.
04:49My breath caught in my throat.
04:52I turned to follow the trail, but stopped.
04:54In the basement doorway, something had changed.
04:57The darkness had shifted, condensed.
05:01A shape stood at the bottom of the stairs, just barely visible.
05:05It was tall and hairy.
05:08Its proportions were menacing.
05:10Its head tilted slowly to one side, as if studying me.
05:15Then it began to climb.
05:16I ran.
05:18I slammed my bedroom door, pushed my dresser against it, and dove under the bed with my phone clutched, shaking
05:25in my hands.
05:26I called my grandmother, but there was no answer.
05:29I called again.
05:31Still nothing.
05:33Outside my door, the footsteps stopped.
05:36The silence that followed was worse than any sound.
05:40I pressed my face against the dusty floor.
05:43My eyes were fixed on the thin line of light under my bedroom door.
05:47Shadows danced across that line.
05:50Slow, deliberate movements that suggested something pacing back and forth.
05:55Testing the door, searching for a way in.
05:59Minutes stretched into hours.
06:02My muscles cramped from holding myself rigid, afraid that any movement would draw attention.
06:08My mind raced through explanations, each more desperate than the last.
06:12Was it an intruder?
06:14A wild animal?
06:15A nightmare I hadn't yet woken from?
06:18But the rational part of my brain, the part trained to observe and diagnose, knew the truth was something else
06:24entirely.
06:25My thoughts began racing as I remembered how I had cheated on my last exam,
06:30and my grandmother's insistence to tell and retell me about Krampus.
06:34Was this my punishment?
06:36At 5.23 a.m., the doorknob began to turn.
06:41I watched it rotate slowly, testing the resistance of the lock.
06:45The dresser scraped an inch across the floor, then another inch.
06:50Whatever stood outside possessed strength beyond any human capability.
06:55The scraping stopped.
06:56The doorknob settled back into position, and the footsteps retreated down the hallway.
07:02But they didn't descend into the basement.
07:05They stopped somewhere else.
07:07Somewhere I couldn't see.
07:09Waiting.
07:11For hours I waited in the silence.
07:13My phone battery died at 7.12 a.m.
07:17When morning light finally crept through my window, I emerged.
07:21The hallway was empty.
07:22The basement door was closed, and the footprints were gone.
07:26But in the mirror above the hallway table, written in the same dark, viscous substance that made up the footprints,
07:34were four words.
07:35You can't cheat the rules.
07:38My hands trembled as I read those words.
07:41I understood now what my grandmother had meant.
07:44Some things exist just beyond human perception, held at bay only by willful ignorance.
07:51By looking, by acknowledging, by bearing witness to what had climbed those stairs, I had created a connection.
08:00I had seen it return.
08:02I had cheated the rules.
08:03I scrubbed at the mirror with paper towels, but the substance wouldn't come off.
08:08It had soaked deep into the glass, staining it from within.
08:12I gave up and covered the mirror with a towel, trying not to think about what those words meant.
08:18What they promised.
08:19I packed my bags the next morning.
08:22I called my parents and invented an emergency.
08:25I left the house before noon.
08:28As I drove away, I glanced in my rearview mirror.
08:32In the window of my bedroom, something stood tall, watching, its head tilted to one side.
08:39I never returned to my grandmother's house.
08:41I never asked what lived in the basement.
08:44And I never, ever looked in mirrors at night, because sometimes, just at the edge of my vision,
08:51I could see that shape standing behind me, its head tilted, waiting for me to look too long.
08:59The medical school acceptance letter arrived three months later.
09:02I should have been elated, but fear had become my constant companion.
09:07I moved to a new city, found a new apartment with no basement,
09:12and covered every mirror before sunset.
09:15My roommate thought me strange, but harmless.
09:18I didn't try to explain it to them.
09:20But the thing from the basement was patient.
09:23It had waited in that darkness for decades, perhaps longer.
09:27It could wait a little more.
09:29And every night, in the reflection of my darkened phone screen,
09:33in the polished surface of my laptop,
09:36I could see it standing there, growing closer,
09:39its head tilted, watching,
09:43waiting for me to look too long,
09:45or to cheat again.
09:53I had never feared old houses.
09:56I grew up around creaking doors,
09:58flickering bulbs,
10:00rattling windows,
10:01and long nights where the power went out without warning.
10:05I was used to the dark.
10:07I was used to silence.
10:08And used to shadows that stretched strangely under dim light.
10:13So during December, I rented a room in an ancient two-story house on the edge of the city.
10:18I was in town to visit my parents during the holidays.
10:22I had two weeks off from work,
10:24and cutting corners on rent helped me to afford better gifts.
10:28The house was oddly shaped,
10:30with a long corridor of stairs and a wooden ceiling,
10:34low enough to touch if I stretched on my toes.
10:37The owner lived overseas and rarely returned,
10:40leaving the upper floor with four rooms for tenants.
10:44Only one room was occupied when I arrived.
10:47The others were vacant.
10:49The silence felt tranquil.
10:51During the day, nothing unusual happened.
10:54I settled into a routine,
10:56visiting family during the day,
10:59having tea at night,
11:00and then sleeping.
11:01The wooden floorboards groaned sometimes,
11:04but in ways I expected from an old house.
11:07The one detail that slightly bothered me
11:09was the ceiling above my bed.
11:11It had a square panel,
11:13some kind of old access hatch,
11:15directly in the center.
11:17It looked like the cover of a crawlspace,
11:20the type of maintenance that might be used for wiring.
11:23I never touched it,
11:25but I didn't like how it hovered right over my face when I lay down.
11:29By the end of the second day,
11:31I noticed something subtle but deeply unsettling.
11:34The ceiling hatch looked different,
11:36depending on the time of day.
11:38In the morning,
11:39it seemed flush,
11:40with the rest of the ceiling perfectly aligned.
11:43But at night,
11:44when the room filled with shadows,
11:46and the single bulb cast a weak yellow light,
11:49the panel appeared slightly tilted,
11:52raised on one side,
11:53just a few centimeters,
11:55like something underneath was pushing upward.
11:58I dismissed it initially,
12:00assuming old wood might warp with temperature,
12:03but the difference was too consistent to ignore.
12:06Every night,
12:07the panel rose slightly.
12:09Every morning,
12:10it returned to normal.
12:11One night,
12:12I stared at it's longer than usual.
12:15The longer I looked,
12:16the more certain I became
12:17that the gap between the panel and the ceiling
12:20widened very slowly,
12:22almost like a breath expanding.
12:24I forced myself onto the blanket
12:27and turned to the wall.
12:29The last thought I had before sleep finally came
12:32was that the gap had been a little wider than before.
12:36Sleep didn't bring rest.
12:38Halfway through the night,
12:40I felt something,
12:41an odd pressure in the air.
12:43I opened my eyes.
12:45The room was so still
12:47that even dust particles seemed frozen.
12:49I didn't move,
12:50but in the corner of my eye,
12:52I caught something from the ceiling.
12:54A dark patch where the hatch was.
12:57I turned my head carefully.
12:59The panel was open
13:00by at least an inch.
13:02I lay frozen,
13:03my heart pounding so violently
13:05I felt it to my fingertips.
13:07The opening was too dark to see inside.
13:10I stared until tears wailed from not blinking.
13:14My mind screamed at me to get up,
13:16to leave the room,
13:17to run,
13:18but my body refused to obey.
13:20I remained motionless
13:22until exhaustion pulled me back into sleep.
13:25In the morning,
13:26the panel was shut again,
13:28perfectly aligned,
13:29no gap at all.
13:30I avoided looking at it the whole day.
13:33I tried to laugh it off
13:35as a half dream,
13:36but a knot sat heavy in my stomach.
13:39It got worse when I stepped into the corridor.
13:42Dust,
13:43fine and gray,
13:44lay scattered near the door.
13:46I bent down to inspect it.
13:48It was falling from above,
13:50from the direction of the crawlspace.
13:52I looked up and saw scratches
13:54on the ceiling boards outside my room.
13:56Not normal scratches from furniture or nails.
14:00These looked like long,
14:01thin marks made by something dragging along the wood.
14:05Something searching.
14:06For the first time,
14:08I felt the house watching me.
14:09That night,
14:10I slept with the lights on.
14:13The bulb buzzed faintly,
14:15flickering occasionally,
14:17casting uneven shadows across the room.
14:19The ceiling hatch remained shut,
14:21but around 2 a.m.
14:23a sound woke me.
14:24A soft thud,
14:26muffled but close.
14:28I sat up slowly.
14:30Another thud sounded directly above me.
14:32Something was moving inside the crawlspace.
14:34I didn't breathe.
14:36I didn't blink.
14:38My heart hammered violently against my chest.
14:41The sound came again,
14:42this time a drag,
14:44like something heavy,
14:45sliding across old wood.
14:47Then,
14:48complete silence.
14:50I kept staring at the hatch
14:51until dawn arrived,
14:53like a lifeline.
14:54The next two days,
14:56nothing happened.
14:57The hatch stayed shut.
14:59There was no scratching,
15:01and no thuds.
15:02I almost convinced myself
15:04that the stress of moving
15:06had created phantom noises,
15:08until the smell began.
15:10It seeped into my room from nowhere,
15:12a sharp,
15:13decaying odor,
15:14like damp wood,
15:15mixed with something sour.
15:17I checked everywhere,
15:19but nothing.
15:21I opened the windows,
15:22but the smell grew stronger each night,
15:25thickening the air
15:26until I struggled to breathe.
15:27On the fourth night,
15:29I couldn't sleep.
15:30Every breath felt contaminated.
15:32I got up and paced the room.
15:35On one pass near the bed,
15:36I paused.
15:37The smell was stronger,
15:39directly beneath the hatch.
15:41It was coming from above me.
15:43As I stood beneath the panel,
15:45my stomach was twisting.
15:47The wood around the hatch
15:48seemed darker now,
15:50as if moisture had seeped through.
15:52The edges looked swollen.
15:54A tiny bead of dark fluid,
15:56too thick to be water,
15:58hung from one corner
15:59and dropped onto the floor
16:01with a soft tap.
16:02That was the moment I decided
16:04I could no longer sleep
16:05in that room.
16:06I grabbed my pillow and blanket
16:09and spent the night
16:10on the sofa downstairs.
16:12The next morning,
16:13I returned cautiously.
16:14The smell had fainted.
16:16The hatch was fully shut again,
16:19almost too shut,
16:20too perfect,
16:21as if deliberately sealed.
16:23But the floor told the truth.
16:26A small, dark stain remained
16:28where the droplet had fallen.
16:29I crouched and touched it lightly.
16:32It felt tacky,
16:34sticky,
16:35and unnatural.
16:36I washed my hands three times
16:38before they felt clean again.
16:40The next three nights,
16:41I continued sleeping downstairs.
16:43But even there,
16:45I began waking to faint sounds,
16:47soft breaths barely audible,
16:49drifting from somewhere above.
16:52My nightmares became filled
16:54with dark, cramped spaces
16:56and unseen eyes.
16:58I awoke sweating,
17:00shaking,
17:00and convinced myself
17:01I had heard something
17:02crawling inside the walls.
17:04By the seventh day,
17:06which was Christmas,
17:07I decided to leave.
17:08I didn't care about losing
17:10advance rent.
17:11I packed half of my belongings
17:13and prepared to move the rest
17:14the next morning.
17:15But the house wasn't done with me.
17:17That night was the worst yet.
17:21I lay on the upstairs bed
17:22for the first time in days,
17:24only because exhaustion
17:26had crushed me.
17:27I hoped maybe
17:28one last night wouldn't matter.
17:30I didn't look up at the ceiling.
17:32I slept facing the wall.
17:35Sometime past midnight,
17:36a noise pulled me
17:37from deep sleep.
17:38A soft, deliberate click.
17:41I lay perfectly still,
17:43listening.
17:43My body stiffened
17:45as the second click came.
17:47Long,
17:48slow,
17:49and unmistakably
17:51the sound of shifting wood.
17:53I turned my head
17:54toward the ceiling.
17:55The hatch was open.
17:56Not slightly.
17:58Not just an inch.
17:59Fully open.
18:00A large,
18:02rectangular void
18:03stared down at me,
18:04swallowing the light.
18:05The darkness inside
18:06was blacker than natural shadow,
18:09absorbing every reflection.
18:10It felt like a hole
18:12into something
18:13not meant for human eyes.
18:15I couldn't move.
18:16My breath hitched
18:18in my throat.
18:18My heart hammered
18:19so loudly
18:20I feared
18:21whatever was inside
18:22would hear me.
18:23The darkness above
18:24remained still.
18:26Then something
18:27shifted inside it.
18:28A faint movement,
18:30barely visible,
18:31like the subtle
18:32sway of fabric
18:33in the wind.
18:34I blinked
18:35and leaned back
18:36instinctively.
18:37The shape
18:38didn't disappear.
18:39It grew more distinct.
18:41What emerged first
18:43made my stomach drop.
18:44It was an eye.
18:45A single,
18:47enormous eye,
18:48easily the size
18:49of a dinner plate,
18:50pressing against
18:51the opening
18:51from inside.
18:53The iris
18:53was colorless.
18:55Not white
18:55or black,
18:56but a translucent
18:57gray
18:57like dirty ice.
18:59Veins spread
19:00across the sclera
19:01in thick,
19:02pulsing branches.
19:03The pupil dilated
19:05and contracted
19:05rhythmically,
19:06as if breathing.
19:07The eye
19:09didn't blink.
19:10It rotated
19:11slowly in its socket,
19:12scanning the room
19:13with mechanical precision.
19:15Then,
19:16it fixed on me.
19:17I jumped out of bed
19:19and bolted out the house.
19:20I was still in my pajamas.
19:22My shoes
19:23had been left inside,
19:24and all I really had
19:25with me
19:25was my keys,
19:26but I didn't care.
19:27I sped home,
19:29but my fear
19:29of whatever this was
19:30trumped my fear
19:31of being pulled over
19:33by the police.
19:34When I arrived
19:35at my parents,
19:35I was an emotional wreck.
19:37They were more traditional,
19:38so I didn't expect them
19:39to believe
19:40what I had experienced,
19:41so I made up
19:42some story
19:42about being mistreated
19:44by the other tenants.
19:45Not something bad enough
19:46to get the police involved,
19:47but understandable enough
19:48that I would want to go home
19:50and be with them instead.
19:51They were kind and caring,
19:52and I felt bad
19:53about lying to them,
19:54but under the circumstances,
19:55it felt like
19:56the right thing to do.
19:57Like I said,
19:58I doubt they would ever believe me,
20:00and if they did,
20:01they'd want to go there first
20:02before getting
20:02the police involved,
20:03and if that happened,
20:05who knows what would happen.
20:06Overall,
20:07this is the scariest Christmas
20:08I have ever lived through,
20:10and if there's anything
20:10I can suggest
20:11after going through
20:12these experiences,
20:13I would just say this.
20:16During Christmas,
20:17keep your loved ones close,
20:18and don't be alone.
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